


The Date

by dantilais



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1950s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Period-Typical Sexism, john's seriously an asshole in this one but it's because he's insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantilais/pseuds/dantilais
Summary: Paul has a date with a girl. John tags along.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	The Date

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on a true story of paul’s date with his girlfriend celia that john completely ruined. of course i added my own twist to it - maybe the date wasn’t ruined after all? ;)

…

  
  
Paul was just finishing slicking back his hair when he heard the doorbell ring from downstairs.  _ Bloody hell, was Celia here already? _

Celia was a girl Paul had met at his school’s dance a couple days before. She had been outgoing and flirtatious, so Paul had promptly asked her if she was willing to go on another date with him next Friday, just the two of them. Nothing too fancy, maybe just a movie and dinner... and something else afterwards, if Paul was lucky, though he kept that last idea to himself. Celia agreed for a movie and dinner, promising she would stop by at Paul’s house after she got off her job. 

The doorbell continued to ring incessantly, followed by pounding knocks that made the whole front door shake. _Shit, lady! One second!_ Paul quickly grabbed the rose he had bought earlier, then rushed down the stairs. He couldn’t believe it, Celia had been so well-mannered last time he was with her. What was her deal now, banging on his door like that? Paul gave himself one last look in the mirror, making sure he looked alright and that his new outfit wasn’t wrinkled in any places. Satisfied, he opened the front door and found himself on eye level with a brown-haired man sporting a leather jacket and jeans- most certainly not Celia.

The man eyed Paul up and down. “Fuckin’ hell, I didn’t think you were going to be this dolled up for me.”

“What are you doing here, John?” Paul hissed, his cheeks flushing scarlet in both anger and embarrassment as he hid the rose behind his back.

“What do you mean, what am I doin’ here? We said we were gonna hit the town tonight, remember?”

Paul’s eyes widened, the memory of making plans with John returning to him. That had been nearly a week ago at band rehearsal, and he swore he had cancelled since then.

“Shit, John. I’m really sorry- I completely forgot. I made plans with a girl tonight. She’s gonna be here any minute.”

“What girl is that?” John said, casually inviting himself into the house.

“Celia. I met her at that dance I said I was going to.”

John laughed, carelessly kicking the dirt off his shoes. “I thought you were joking when you said you were going to that.”

Paul frowned. “Why would I be joking?”

“Just doesn’t seem like you,” John shrugged. “Going to all these little innocent school dances. Though I suppose it’s a great place to find nice, eager birds.”

“Yes, she is a nice girl, John,” Paul said sternly. “And she’s going to be here any minute.”

“Alright?”

“Yes, so can you fuck off?” Paul didn’t mean to sound harsh, but he was suddenly finding himself in quite a dilemma.

“And go do what? You were my plans for tonight, Paul, and I called going out with you before she did.”

Paul bit his lip. John had a point, and to be honest, a night out with John sounded just as fun as a night out with Celia. Besides, Paul knew John well enough to know that John would sulk for days if Paul denied him this. “But I can’t just cancel my date with Celia.”

“I didn’t ask you to cancel anything, Paul. Can’t I just tag along for a bit? Don’t worry- I’ll be out by the time you decide to stick your cock in her.”

Paul tried to look disgusted at John’s vulgarity, but it was impossible to hide his amusement. John wriggled his eyebrows playfully when he noticed Paul smiling.

“Fine,” Paul resigned. “I’ll let you tag along this time.”

  
  


…

  
  


“That would be Celia,” Paul said, the next time the doorbell rang. This time only once.

John sat on the stairwell, watching curiously as Paul snatched the rose again and approached the door.

“How do I look?” Paul asked quickly, turning to John with a concerned glance.

“Completely dashing,” John spoke in exaggerated adoration. “Like a prince in shining armour.”

“Shut it,” Paul laughed, and with a smile on his face he opened the door.

He was taken aback. Celia looked… well, _gorgeous_. There was a reason why she’d caught his eye back at the party, with her put-together blonde hair and sparkling grey eyes. She was wearing a short dress with a green floral pattern, and Paul couldn’t help but glance down at her bare legs and take it in. Celia blushed when she noticed Paul’s eyes raking her over, and even harder when she accepted Paul’s rose.

“Celia,” Paul nodded in greeting. “You look stunning.”

There was the sound of somebody laughing coming from indoors.

Celia glanced behind Paul, and asked a bit nervously, “who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s just my friend, John. He’s tagging along tonight, if it’s alright?”

Celia’s lips curled down into a frown. “I suppose that’s alright…”

Paul turned his head to see John, sitting there with the dirtiest look on his face imaginable. Paul began to feel quite bad. Celia was Paul’s age, seventeen, which made John nineteen, though he looked older. And with his edgy, unwashed hair, bold facial features, and squinted eyes, Paul realized he must look quite threatening to strangers, especially to a little girl like Celia.

“Don’t worry, he’s not that bad” Paul promised, dropping his voice so only Celia could hear him. “I forgot I told him I was going out with him tonight when I made plans with you, which is why I’m letting him come with us. Just ignore him, okay?”

“Okay…” Celia said uncertainly, though her mood was lifted when Paul pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek. She giggled. “Let’s go then, shall we?”

Paul took her hand as he led her outside, down to the driveway. He shot one last glance at John, “you coming?”

  
  


…

  
  


Next thing Paul knew, he was driving in his car. Well, not his car, his family couldn’t afford one for him yet. It technically belonged to Paul’s father, but he let Paul borrow it for this special occasion, and Paul didn’t think it mattered to tell Celia it wasn’t his.

Celia was in the passenger seat next to him, making chit chat about how her job was and about the movie they were going to see. Occasionally they were interrupted by John, who had put himself in the back seat and was making rude comments about anything: how stupid the people crossing the street‘s outfits were, how Paul drove like a grandmother, how he was fuckin’ staving- the typical Lennon small talk. At one point, John even rolled down his window to catcall a group of young ladies, which visibly made Celia uncomfortable. Paul cringed- usually he found the type of things John said to be hilarious, but it wasn’t appropriate to joke around now. With John, Paul could be himself, but with Celia he had to be a gentleman. He flashed John an evil glance through the rear-view mirror, _shut up_ , his eyes tried to say, and John did, though he was still grinning in triumph.

At last they arrived at the movie theatre, Paul sitting between Celia and John. Celia picked the film, some romance story that she was obviously enthralled by. Paul tried his best to seem interested in the movie, but it was hard to ignore John on the other side of him, who was snickering obnoxiously until he got Paul’s attention.

John started mimicking the heroin of the film, flailing his arms around dramatically. Paul laughed aloud, and quickly covered his mouth. A few disapproving glances from the people sitting around them. John was constantly leaning over Paul to steal some popcorn from Celia’s lap, and eventually Celia huffed and just passed the entire thing to John, who ate almost all of it by the end of the movie. The kernels he didn’t eat were thrown at the screen, or at Paul.

Paul and John exited the theatre in a cheery mood.

“How’d you like the film, baby?” Paul asked Celia.

“Shit,” John said.

Celia flashed John a dirty look. “I liked it.”

“Yeah, I liked it too,” said Paul, but he couldn’t help but giggle after he said. It was horrid- the type of film he would usually watch when there was nothing else to watch and fall asleep midway through. But in this case, John was there to keep his mind far away from sleep.

“I think it’d be better if I was in it. I could be a pretty good actor, yknow,” John said, then imitating the actress in the movie, he threw his arms around Paul, almost knocking him over, and screamed “ _Oh! Kiss me! If you don’t, I’ll simply die!_ ”

Noticing Celia’s disapproving glare, it took all of Paul’s effort not to double over from laughter. He pushed John away playfully, who was still yacking on and on about some rubbish by the time they returned to the car.

“Dinner?” Paul asked, leaning towards Celia.

“Sure,” Celia agreed, albeit a bit distant now.

Suddenly, John threw a popcorn kernel at him.

“Oi!” Paul said, searching for it in his lap. “Where’d you get this from?”

Paul tossed it back at him- John dodged- then he turned back around and started the car’s engine.

  
  


…

  
  


They arrived at the restaurant Paul had planned soon enough. He’d been there a couple times with John and some of the other Quarrymen, thinking it would be the perfect place for a date. It was fancy enough to be considered a proper restaurant, but it was still perfectly hip with it’s American-styled coloured wallpaper and rock and roll music always playing on the jukebox.

When they were seated, Paul and Celia sat next to each other, and Paul slid his arm around her shoulders. John sat across from Paul, and was already complaining.

“I ate so much fuckin’ popcorn I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to hold anything else down, Paul.”

“That’s your own bloody fault,” Paul teased.

“If I do throw up, would you rather I do it all over your new suit, or your lady’s lovely dress?”

Soon enough their waitress came around to get their orders. The waitress was a young, curvy blonde lady. Celia was watching Paul as he ordered their drinks, probably testing him to see if he would check the waitress out or not. Paul knew how girls usually were. Paul played it as cool as possible, keeping his eyes glued down at his menu as he recited their orders.

“And, uh- three cokes-”

Out of his peripheral vision, Paul could see John looking at him, making squeezing gestures with his hands. Paul choked.

“What was that, sir?” the waitress asked.

“Nothing- uh, that’s all for now, I think.”

The moment the waitress walked away, Paul leaned over the table with his menu and slapped John with it.

“You bloody bastard, stop making me laugh at all the worst times!”

“I know you wanted ‘em, Paul. Two fat, round-”

“John!” Paul interrupted, threatening to hit him with the menu again.

“Oh, right. Can’t be saying those things ‘round innocent little Celia over here,” John said, glancing at her. “Though by the looks of it, she’s probably hiding a pair like ‘em under that dress. Too bad it wasn’t tighter, eh?”

Celia’s face turned bright red. She leant to Paul’s ear and whispered, “can we go outside for a moment? Just the two of us?”

When they got outside, Celia was nearly in tears. Paul panicked, not knowing what the appropriate protocol for this situation was. He never meant for the date to turn so sour.

“What’s wrong?” he finally managed.

“It’s your friend,” Celia said. “He’s a… he’s a monster!”

“No,” Paul disagreed, before he even realized what he was doing. He shouldn’t be defending John, but he couldn’t help it. “He’s just John.”

“Well, John is dreadful. He’s cruel, and he’s a bully. I don’t know why you brought him along, you’re so much better than him, Paul. You should ditch him.”

Paul knew John was rude. He was always a bit rude, especially today. But Paul, unlike Celia, knew John could be a nice guy when he wanted to be. He’d seen how sweet John sometimes was to Cynthia, and remembered all the many late nights he sat in John’s bed, having sensitive conversations that he could never imagine having with anybody else. John was the most thoughtful man he knew, but also the moodiest. Today was just one of the days that John decided to act like a total arse, especially to poor Celia.

“I’m sorry, Celia,” Paul sighed. “He’s just John, being funny. And I can’t just ditch him like that, he’s my best friend.”

“Is he?” Celia suddenly stiffened, a hint of anger in her upset eyes. “By the way you two have been acting, I would have thought he was more than that.”

Paul blinked. “What are you saying?”

“That he’s… he’s completely into you! Everytime I try to get close to you, I look over at him and he looks like he wants to murder me. Everytime I keep my distance, he completely forgets I exist and is so absorbed in you. And you… you don’t even stop him. You like it… you like him!” She was hysterical now, tears running down her cheeks.

Paul gawked at her, too surprised to even think about whether he should comfort her, or slap her for accusing him of such a thing. In the end, he didn’t have to decide. Celia was running off, and Paul was left standing there, his mouth still gaping with unspoken words.

What now? Chase after her? She was so upset with him, he couldn’t possibly try or else he would only end up making things worse. And he most certainly couldn’t go back into the restaurant- not yet, at least. Paul fished a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jacket, then leaned against the wall. He took a long drag, trying to calm himself down, but his mind was still racing. What Celia said was unbelievable, yet at the same time it wasn’t, and that was the scary thing. Of course he hadn’t ever thought about John like _that_ , he thought about John like… well… how he thought about John. It wasn’t the same way he thought about birds, but Paul supposed it wasn’t the same way he thought about his other mates, either. But the real question was, how did John think about him? Celia’s words kept repeating over and over again in Paul’s head.

Eventually, Paul tossed his cigarette on the ground and stomped out the sparks with the heel of his boot, then he walked back into the restaurant. John was still sitting there where Paul had left him, completely oblivious and doodling on a napkin. Paul realized, resuming his seat, that he felt awkward and nervous, which was strange. He never remembered feeling so out of place around John.

“Took you long enough,” John said, not lifting his eyes from the napkin. “Where’d the bird go?”

“She left,” Paul said, stiffly.

“Why’d she do that? She was having so much fun!” John gave a cheeky smile.

“You’re a cunt.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

“No, I mean it seriously. She was a nice girl and left ‘cause of you. She said you’re a monster. I actually defended you, but now I’m not so sure I made the right decision.”

John raised his eyes at Paul, suddenly deadly serious. “If you like her so much more than me, then go save her before she flies away. I don’t give a shit what you do, Paul, you’re the man in charge. You can beat the shit out of me in front of her and leave me on a street corner, if you want. That’s sure to impress her and win her back, eh?”

“Oh, fuck all,” Paul said, annoyed. “Stop moping and trying to manipulate me into feeling bad for you. You’re fuckin’ pathetic sometimes. I know you too well and I can see right through you.”

“You don’t know shit about me, Paul.”

“I know you’re in love with me.” The words stumbled out of Paul before he could even process what they were.

All at once, everything seemed to go deathly silent. John stared at Paul in horror- then anger. Paul could almost see the fire burning in John’s dark eyes, and that’s when Paul knew that he had said a true thing. To be honest, Paul probably felt more confused, angry, and embarrassed than John felt, though he tried to hide it. He needed to make himself look like the tough guy in control, just to knock John off his high horse and get the truth out of him, for once.

“Did the little bird say that?” John finally hissed. “That fuckin’ bitch doesn’t know anything about me. She’s a lying whore like all your other girl-”

“Maybe she said it, but I believe her,” Paul cut in before John could insult poor Celia anymore. “I think it’s true. Why do you care so much about all the girls I spend time with? You act like a cunt to them all. If you weren’t so fuckin’ selfish, you’d let me go on a nice date with Celia. But no, you can’t let that be. You need to be with me all the time and mope, only being satisfied when you ruin everything. This isn’t just with Celia- you scared away Judy too, and Melinda, and you-”

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT!” John yelled, standing up with enough force to nearly knock the table over. The restaurant turned quiet as everybody turned to see what the sudden commotion was. For a moment, Paul was convinced John was going to punch him. But John managed to keep himself in check, shutting his lips and adjusting his jacket. He carelessly tossed a pound from his pocket onto the table, muttering about paying for his drink, then he left the restaurant with as much dignity as he could muster, out into the night.

Paul sat there, feeling defeated. How was it possible for him to fuck up so badly that not one, but _two_ people he liked ended up yelling at him and charging away within the span of fifteen minutes? Paul hid his face in his arms, trying his best to understand all that he was only now becoming aware of. His thoughts were distracted when the waitress approached him.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

Paul looked up at her, forcing his most charming smile. “Yes, everything is just groovy, babe. Can I get the bill?

  
  


…

  
  


Paul drove home alone, that night. At least, he tried to drive home. He was so pissed off he wanted to forget about everything, get to his room, bury himself into his pillows and sleep away all his worries.

Now that he thought about it, he could most likely get away with never seeing Celia again. She probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore, anyway. But he couldn’t exactly forget about John. They had a band together, for Christ's sake: unless Paul wanted to give up his musical dreams, he couldn’t avoid John forever. And he knew John was too proud to apologize to Paul first. Paul checked his watch- ten o’clock. The next bus from here to Woolton wasn’t coming for another forty-five minutes. Paul sighed in defeat, knowing exactly what he had to do.

Paul drove to the bus stop. Sure enough, John was there, sitting on the bench by himself. Paul pulled up in front of him and reached to unlock the passenger door.

John looked up at him and glared, but didn’t move.

Paul turned off the car’s engine. He could wait.

A few awkward minutes passed. It was clear to both of them that the bus wasn’t going to magically show up early and whisk John away, so John at last resolved and entered Paul’s car, sitting down beside him in silence.

“The fuck do you want?” John asked after a moment, his arms crossed.

“I was thinking we could hit the town,” Paul said, remembering what he had promised John a week ago.

John stared out the window in indifference, though he didn’t argue or try to get out when Paul started the engine, which Paul considered a good sign.

Paul drove to John’s favourite pub, where they played Elvis 24/7 and sometimes random girls would offer lap dances for free. It was a shit hole, really, but there was never any security asking for their age, making it easy to sneak in undetected. Paul looked to John, but John seemed to still show the same indifference.

They entered the pub and sat in a corner, a bit out of the way so they could talk. Paul ordered them some drinks. John was still being moody, but he accepted a pint of beer. A few girls noticed his withdrawnness and tried to approach them, but John shooed them away.

“You’re going to have fun tonight, John,” Paul promised.

John didn’t seem to believe him.

  
  


…

  
  


“You’re a bastard, Paul McCartney, a real bastard,” John sighs in defeat after gulping back his fourth drink. They had been at the pub for maybe only an hour already, but that’s all the time it took.

Paul was across from John, laughing in triumph. He had just beat John in cards again, and he began to shuffle them for another round when John suddenly reached out his hand to stop him.

“Don’t you dare- if you beat me one more time I’m gonna be out of here and you’re never gonna see me again.”

Paul looked him in the eyes and they both started laughing again, cheeks flushed from alcohol. This is, Paul realized, what made their relationship so special: even when they were arguing and swearing and yelling at each other, they never once were truly mad at the other. Paul still had questions about the whole Celia-incident, but he wasn’t going to bring her up again now that John had lightened up.

“Come on, one more round,” Paul begged, then winked. “I’ll even go easy on you.”

“Fine then. But if I beat you, you gotta get up and dance in the middle of the room and make a big fool of yourself,” John blurted.

Paul shrugged, trying to look indifferent, though he couldn’t suppress a grin. “Alright. I won’t lose, though.

“But what’s in it for me?” John leaned in. “If I do lose, what do I gotta do?” 

“Pay for all these drinks?” Paul suggested.

John grinned, then shook Paul’s hand. “Deal.”

Paul ended up losing. Maybe he did it on purpose- Paul wasn’t quite sure, to be honest with himself. John was cackling like a madman when Paul stood up, a bit wobbly. _Don’t Be Cruel_ started playing on the jukebox as Paul, fulfilling John’s bet, made his way to the middle of the pub.

John stood up from where their table was so he could see properly, then shouted “woo!” in support. Paul gave him the V. John whistled loudly.

Paul didn’t know quite what to do- so he just started bouncing around like a bit of a lunatic. Soon enough eyes were on him, and people were laughing. It should have been embarrassing, but thankfully Paul had had more than enough to drink. _Alright, John,_ Paul thought. _You want to see me completely humiliate myself?_

Paul hopped up on a table, aware that the whole pub’s eyes were on him. He could hear a few people nearby egg him on, and girls shouting. Without even thinking, Paul began to make some obscene dance moves, like one of the unattractive girls offering blowjobs that John had been laughing at earlier. Now everybody was cheering him on, howling with amusement and cheering. Paul knew how stupid he must look, a drunk little boy trying to be sexy in the middle of some shitty alleyway pub, but when he caught John’s delighted eye and saw his bright smile- a look of true, genuine joy that Paul had only ever caught on the rarest of occasions, Paul realized he was willing to do quite literally anything to keep the smile on his face. That’s when he grabbed some random bloke’s pint, pounded it back, and ripped off his jacket, tossing it into John’s face.

The reaction from the pub was surreal, but didn’t last long. The pub’s manager emerged from the basement at the sound of all the excitement, and pulled Paul down from the table.

“How old are you, kid?” the manager snapped.

“Seventeen.”

“Out!”

Paul and John were laughing like two psychopaths when they were thrown out the back doors. Paul gave John a night he would never forget, and as a welcomed bonus, neither of them ended up having to pay for the drinks. John gave Paul his jacket back as they were exposed to the cold night air.

“I can’t believe you actually did that, Paul. Now _that_ was very unlike you.”

“To be frank, I can’t believe I did it either.”

Paul looked at John and they both dissolved into giggles again like two girls.

“Are you happy now, Johnny?” Paul asked as they settled back down in Paul’s car, which was parked in the alley. “We got our date.”

“Yes,” John said. “Wasn’t that more fun than being with Celia?”

Paul froze. He had hoped John wouldn’t bring her up, but now he had, and judging by John’s facial expression, he seemed to be regretting it.

“Much more fun,” Paul said quickly, trying and failing to bring the conversation back to humorous light.

John pursed his lips. “Look, Paul. I’m really sorry about that Celia incident- I was a total arse. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

Paul groaned. He hated this. He was still practically vibrating from the excitement in the pub and now all his hard work in bringing John’s spirits up and getting rid of the awkward tension between them turned irrelevant. There was only one solution left that Paul could think of. “John, are you still drunk enough?”

“Drunk enough for what?” John asked, ignorantly.

That’s when Paul made his daring leap from the waterfall. He pounced onto John’s seat, right onto his lap, and kissed him hard on the mouth before he had time to be rational about it. John, stunned, pushed Paul off.

“Paul, don’t…”

“Why?” Paul said, his heart beating so hard against his ribcage that he was certain John could hear it. Had he misread the entire situation between them?

“Because you don’t want this.”

“Yes, I do,” Paul insisted, and kissed John again to prove it.

John kissed him back for a moment, their lips falling together, feeling as right as finally linking together two pieces in a puzzle. But the miracle ended when John pushed him away again. “No, Paul, you’re just doing this for me, I know you are. Just like how you let me tag along on your date, or how you purposely lost that game of cards.”

Paul shook his head. No. Well, yes. He did do it for John- John’s smile made him happy. But that meant he was doing it for himself too, didn’t it? That’s when Paul realized the reason that he brought John on the date was because he wanted to go on a date with John, not Celia. Being with John made him feel… normal. Himself. It made him feel understood. Fuck, Celia was right. She was bloody right.

“John,” Paul breathed. “I lied when I said you’re the reason Celia stormed off. She didn’t give a damn about you. She left ‘cause she couldn’t handle the fact that her date was mad for his best friend.”

John stared at him for a moment, disbelieving, but Paul knew John could read his mind. All he had to do was give John a certain look, and John knew the truth. Paul liked him back. It was all quite surreal. Hesitantly, John reached out and touched Paul’s face with his fingertips, stroking back some loose pieces of hair that fell over his forehead, as gently as if he were stroking one of his cats. It made Paul smile to see this side of John, but Paul was feeling so hot and eager that he really, _really_ wanted John’s other side, right now.

“Go on and kiss me, you fuckin’ swine,” Paul said, mimicking John’s voice. That made John burst into laughter, and suddenly whatever tension that was left was gone. John grabbed Paul roughly and kissed his lips again: this time a wet and sloppy one with no hesitation from either party. Paul gasped when John’s hips suddenly thrusted up into him, feeling the hardness that was most certainly there within the confines of John’s jeans. Paul had been so wrapped up in the fact that he was falling in love with his best friend, that he barely even remembered the fact that this friend was male. They were still in Paul’s father’s car in an alleyway where anybody could see them if they walked by. And to add to it all, they were minors high on alcohol. Just about every aspect of this situation was illegal, the realization making Paul pause for a moment.

“What?” John said seriously, stopping his movements as he gazed at Paul with concerned eyes.

“We can’t be doing this here,” Paul said. He glanced around the alley, wondering if somebody had already spotted them.

“Oh, Paul, always the sensible one. Who the fuck is gonna catch us?” John said, then he pulled Paul down over his chest so he could growl straight into Paul’s ear. “Now do you want this or not?”

Paul gulped. Now that John had gotten over his own-self doubt, he was taking control again. John the rebellious bastard was going to get him into serious trouble one day, but Paul loved it- He’d never forget all the times John pressured him to skip school so they could go write at his house, or when John helped him shoplift his first leather jacket. John’s influence was thrilling- he liked to live dangerously, but he wasn’t stupid. Thinking it over now, Paul realized this back alley was really the safest place. They couldn’t fuck in either of their homes where their aunts or fathers were sleeping, and it also wasn’t a good idea to drive while they was still buzzing from alcohol.

“Trust me,” John said, and kissed him again. Paul always trusted him.

During another heated make out session, the two managed to climb into the back seats where there was more space. Paul found himself lying on his back, thighs spread wide for John to kneel between. John leaned over top of Paul, pulling his jacket aside to bite and suck on the crook of Paul’s neck, slowly palming Paul’s fully hard erection through his pants. Paul thrusted into the teasing touches, already anticipating that he wasn’t going to last long. He had been dying to get laid all day, though of course he hadn’t expected it to be quite like _this_.

After John hastily pulled away Paul’s trousers and pants and did the same for himself, he pressed back down onto Paul so their hips were completely flushed against one another’s, then he began to rock up and down. Paul gasped at the delicious friction- it was a foreign feeling, but a welcomed one. He pulled John down on top of him so their chests were together, and put his hands under John’s shirt, clawing up and down the bare expanse of John’s back. John was breathing hard and sweating- he smelled like a man and it was purely intoxicating.

Paul couldn’t help but let out little moans as he was taken closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Paul,” John whispered in his ear. One of his hands had found their way into Paul’s damp hair, tugging on the ends of it. “You sound just like a bird when you make those sounds.”

John’s voice was low and husky. If John had said Paul sounded like a girl in any other context, Paul would probably have thrown something at him, but in this particular situation it was one of the hottest things Paul had ever heard. He couldn’t even begin to think of a clever comeback, all he could do was take sharp breaths and moan John’s name, rubbing up against him.

Paul felt John’s thrusts against him quicken to a frantic pace. John’s lips were back on Paul’s, sloppily assaulting Paul’s mouth with his tongue. Between kisses, John continued to gasp out complete and utter nonsense, but Paul managed to discern a few words:

“You don’t even know... how many times I’ve come... all over my hands... imagining this… to you...”

John’s confession finished Paul. He came with a cry, arching his back against John, his seed warm and slippery between their bodies. John finished seconds later, and with a grunt, collapsed next to Paul (practically on top of Paul, given how cramped the back seat of a car was). They were both completely spent. Paul laughed a little to himself, he never thought his date would go this well even in his wildest dreams.

  
  


…

  
  


Paul and John relaxed for a while longer, joking in quiet whispers and relishing their newfound joy in being able to kiss each other. But Paul, knowing they couldn’t spend the entire night in each other’s arms in some dark alleyway, forced himself and John to get dressed and resume their seats. Paul started the vehicle and drove John back to Woolton.

It was a bittersweet feeling, parking in front of John’s home, knowing he couldn’t follow John inside unless he wanted to be yelled at by his father tomorrow.

“Wait,” Paul gasped, suddenly remembering.

Paul reached over into the compartment by John’s seat, where a singular red rose had been left.

“Ta-da,” Paul said, presenting it to John with a cheesy grin. It was a bit shrivelled from neglect, but it still held significance. As Paul’s date ended up being with John, John had the right to it.

“Do I look like a fuckin’ bird?” John asked. It was funny- the fact that Paul and John had just gone on a date and fucked at the end of it, yet doing something sappy like giving a gift crossed the line.

“Take it and give it to your Aunt, I don’t bloody know,” Paul said, forcing the rose into John’s hand.

John looked at, twirling it in his fingers. Paul could tell John appreciated it, even if John would never admit it in a hundred years.

They stayed in silence for a moment longer. Paul began to worry that things were going to get awkward between them, as if the moment John left the car, everything magical was going to be over. Then John muttered something:

“You bloody well remember next time.”

“What?”

“Next week, when we hit the town again. You better remember.”

Then with quick casualty, John opened his door and slipped out of the car, walking to his front door without turning back. Paul watched him go, unable to help the smile that appeared on his face, and he found the smile stuck the whole drive back to his place. Of course he would remember, next time.


End file.
